


Mai's Little Boy

by Amy R (Brightknightie)



Category: Forever Knight
Genre: Episode: "Cherry Blossoms", Gen, Poetry, bereavement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-29
Updated: 2005-12-29
Packaged: 2017-10-23 02:26:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/245269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brightknightie/pseuds/Amy%20R
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His mother's murder has shadowed Doctor Chung's entire life.   (Poem: 17 pentameter quintains, rhymed.)<br/>      <em>"a heart can miss what it never possessed"</em><br/><span class="small">(Original: December 2005.)</span></p>
            </blockquote>





	Mai's Little Boy

  
_I remembered that face through a thousand endless days.  
I remembered that face through endless, sleepless nights.  
I remembered wrong.  
\---_   


My small-boy self, seventy-six years past,  
Peered, paralyzed, through the cracked door to see  
my wise, gentle, beautiful mother's last  
breath sucked by the snarling _Cup Ju Kung Ci_ ,  
the blood drinker that lives eternally.  
The animal eyes glowed like the candles  
lighting her parlor. The beastly teeth shone,  
as sharp as her art's delicate needles.  
Her neck pierced mockingly, her body prone,  
her spirit had fled, leaving me alone.

I was not abandoned in the darkness.  
I did not go hungry, nor wet, nor cold,  
but always haunted by the loneliness  
I remembered that death's face and kept hold  
of an image that could never grow old.

And though I became a doctor, like her,  
one who, first, does no harm, still I carried  
a western stake and eastern spell secure  
across the continent, against the need  
to at last avenge that still-bleeding deed.

So, ever watchful, I never found rest.  
As much as I learned and loved in my prime,  
a heart can miss what it never possessed.  
I have been seeking peace for a long time,  
my whole life twisted by that savage crime.

And then the snarling painted demon mask  
reappeared, lurking now behind the law.  
Saving Nancy Leong, we shared a task,  
but neither badge nor deeds inspire awe,  
and fate leaves me no option to withdraw.

One never forgets his past; I have not.  
We can't bury one life in another.  
These old eyes see clearly what I have caught.  
Vampire, _Cup Ju Kung Ci_ , none other:  
You are the thing that killed my mother.

Coward! Liar! You say it was not you.  
You, with that face I could never forget!  
You were alive then, you admit it's true.  
For my mother's death, you owe a debt,  
in the peace and rest I could never get.

But I won't be, like you, a murderer.  
You say a woman was there, standing by?  
For a just revenge, I must know for sure.  
You claim she yet lives, and can testify;  
if you are lying, both of you will die.

I let the woman come, speak and defend.  
Once again in the midst of that horror  
my grasp on the past begins to unbend.  
Yes, she watched Mamma's death and did not stir,  
my mother's life as nothing before her—

I see you sitting, stiff-backed, immobile.  
Images jump from my jarred memory:  
you, frozen by a familiar needle.  
Completely apart from the savagery  
your face shows misery. How can this be—

It was not you. Smeared with her blood, that face  
is foul, gloating, a white-haired demon  
that killed just to kill, a lustful grimace  
of debased delight, a crude contortion  
that is much too horrible to think on.

And it is not yours. Now I remember.  
I thought he could see me! I tried to hide.  
When I dared to look again, you held her.  
You took his place, tender though yellow-eyed,  
but by then, Mamma had already died.

Bringing you though you cannot soothe that ache,  
fortune brutally affronts my belief.  
As I cry my anguish for the mistake  
barely averted, and my endless grief,  
I pull my needle; you sigh your relief.

That I kill the thing that killed my mother,  
I had thought both my right and destiny.  
Instead, I almost committed murder,  
all but became what I hate so deeply.  
Why but revenge would fate send you to me?

Shaken, I fix on that recovered face,  
the third of you, then. Where is this butcher?  
The woman frowns and offers to erase  
my memory, sparing me no answer.  
But you see deeper, and say no to her.

The woman turns her back and stands apart.  
You tell me, simply, the monster is dead  
at your hands, flaming stake through grave-cold heart.  
I cannot thank you. But looking ahead  
I see our hopes at last less limited.

 

  
**— End —**   


**Author's Note:**

>  **Disclaimers.** Parriot and Cohen created  Forever Knight; Sony owns it. I intend no infringement. Characters and situations depicted are of course entirely fictional. (Vampires don't exist. Children orphaned by murder do, though.)
> 
>  **Citations.**   _Canon:_ The first-season episode "Cherry Blossoms" by Roy Sallows brings us the characters Nancy Leong, Dr. Chung, and his mother Mai, the acupuncturist in 1916 San Francisco. This poem explores Dr. Chung's view, and was inspired by the sobs off-screen after Dr. Chung removes that last needle. (Turn up your volume if you've never heard the moving flourish that ends that scene.)  _Spelling:_ This poem's spellings of the character names and “Cup Ju Kung Ci” come not from the DVD closed-captioning, but instead courtesy of friends who own a copy of the script. My thanks!  _Prosody and Quotations:_ For those, like me, obsessed with mechanics: the poem is seventeen pentameter quintains, rhymed ababb, following three preface lines, the first two of which are quoted directly from “Cherry Blossoms.” Other quotations include “Mai’s little boy,” “I have been seeking [rest] for a long time,” “you are the thing that killed my mother,” “I thought he could see me,” and “if you are lying, both of you will die.”
> 
>  **Beta-Reading.** In 2002, five listmembers (Sandra, Eve, Chris, Allison, Wanda) generously took time to assess a draft of this poem, then titled “That Face” or “Dr. Chung's Lament.” I was unable to reconcile their diverse insights at that time, and set the piece aside. Early in Christmas week of 2005, I picked it up again, and pruned and polished until this version emerged.
> 
>  **Thank you for reading!** Constructive criticism is welcome. Let me know what you think?


End file.
